Category: Life

I find myself wanting to say so much I know won’t matter anymore. What use is there in telling you when we’re done?

What prompted me to write this blog post was the realization that tears were falling down the sides of my eyes as I lay down staring at my dark ceiling. I caught myself remembering our first few months together when we’d laugh and forget about the time when we talked, the way you laughed when I said something funny, and the way you used to make me feel. And as I type this I can feel cold streams of tears against my warm cheeks. Despite all that, I know you haven’t cared enough to check this blog for a long while and there’s a slimmer chance you will in the future.

I never thought I would fall in love with you, honestly. As clichéd as it might be, I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone this much before. I know I’ve said that in the past, but now more so than ever does that statement ring clear for me. I always thought you would be my special friend, given our initial circumstances, and when I found myself falling for you I even attempted to make it a little awkward between us.

But it still happened, I fell for you and somehow you had already fallen for me. So we started the difficult task of being in a long distance relationship. You told me we would make it work, and I remember wanting to believe you so much. So much happened between then and now, it’s hard to believe it’s only been over a year and some.

We fell in love, we made it official, we fought and we made up, and we fought again. I know there is so much else to our relationship than that, but I can’t mention them all since I might need a lot more time and a bit larger a slice of the internet than I intend this post to occupy. We learned so much from each other and I’m happy it was you.

I guess what hurts me is that these past few days I’ve been receiving attention from guys, and it bothered me. I didn’t know why then, but I guess now I know I’m not comfortable with it since I’m still stuck loving you. Wow, I love you so much. I did, and I still do. God, this post will embarrass me in the future, but it hurts having to be apart from the person I love.

I gave you a lot; really, to some extent, I think I gave you everything. And I don’t regret any of that. But, Jesus Christ, does it hurt to remember that you let me slip away.

I allowed myself to feel so low for so long because I loved you, and I believed that I was the one that was too much, that I was the one that didn’t understand. I adjusted, and watched as you chose to move further away. You only ever seemed to pull me back with words and promises and “I love you”s when I was pulling away from you.

Then we broke up, for good that time. Two weeks later, you said you wanted to try again but you balked when I asked what it was you intend to do this time around. I remember you shouting at me, saying I was always too much.

I asked you to push through on visiting me so we could have a proper conversation. You came and we talked, and I hope you still remember the conversation we had. Before you left, we had agreed that we wouldn’t talk unless it was important anymore. I didn’t manage it one night and I called you in the middle of a storm. Then, I thought that was it.

You messaged me about burning photos you had given me some days after, but I didn’t reply. I joined Discord again, and shortly after you left the server. You made a fake account after to check on me. Wow. You messaged me on Telegram about the photos, even mentioning that you didn’t know why it was I wasn’t replying to your messages. Then came your apologetic message on Discord.

You realized you missed me. You realized you were bothering me because you missed me.

You wanted us to be best friends still, and I said yes. For two weeks, we talked but I held my ground. I knew what I wanted this time and I was not afraid of being called too much. You admitted it yourself, too. You realized I was the only constant in your life, and that you regret not putting more effort into the relationship. The sad part is, you only realized that after the relationship ended.

So, I told you when you were being unfair or misogynistic or anything else that bothers me. You pulled away this time because you realized that you couldn’t handle the feeling of wanting to please me.

Wow, why am I still here? You have always had this pattern of making big gestures when you’re in danger of losing me -or- when you’ve just lost me, and once you have me back you reset into not making any efforts again. Otherwise, you give up when I don’t budge.

So, wow, I’m reading back up and I’m confused. I started this post missing you, but I feel better after writing down our falling out.

I’ll clean this post up as an edit. I do need to conclusion before I fall asleep though. I am so sleepy now.

In retrospect, I don’t regret letting go of the relationship. You know what I gave you, but you didn’t appreciate that or reciprocate it during our relationship. There were constant apologies and rarely did you make up for them nor were there many improvements. You only tried when you were in danger of losing me, and you would even get mad when I didn’t take you back.

But I loved you, and I still do. Maybe that’s why I endured all that for so long. We’re here now, and I don’t want you back. At least not how it is, or how we are, right now. Maybe, just maybe, one day, we can try again.

You’ve ripped my trust up into tiny pieces that I’ll have to find and glue back. It’s hard to believe anything you say anymore and it hurts knowing I trusted you so much back then. Honestly, I find it hard to believe you’ll grow up. If you do, it likely won’t be for me but for a girl who will inspire you more than I ever did.

To quote a cliché Filipino mainstream, but classic, movie non verbatim, sana ako nalang ulit. But I know, it won’t be the best. Sana tayo nalang ulit, my heart says, but I guess I should let go and say goodbye.

I haven’t written in a long while, and it feels a bit novel to be back here. I’m here mostly to rant, and maybe attempt to let off some steam.

See, I only really ever write when I feel an excess of emotion. I don’t remember when it was I last like this, but I know it’s been a while. Two years ago is a safe bet.

I’ve somehow recently gotten this suffocating feeling. They say it’d feel better if I told someone, but I don’t feel like there’s anyone I can really talk to about it either. I’ve tried explaining it to myself, but even I know I don’t make any sense. I’ve attempted to tell loved ones, but I don’t say the right words and mostly we’ll end up fighting.

Sometimes I wonder if everybody else’s life would be better if I didn’t have to be in it. Other times, I like to blame everyone else for how I feel. I can’t put to words exactly how I feel, but if I were to nominate one word close enough it would be confused.

I’ve pushed people away, and there’s always a limit to how much people can stand before they start to realize how disheartening I can be at times. I don’t really know if any of you will read this, but I want you to know I am sorry. Truly, I am.

It’s a word from my vernacular. I guess you could say the root word is mingaw and even that doesn’t have an exact translation in English, but quiet is close enough.

There isn’t any easy way to describe it. It’s sort of the way you feel when it’s been some time since you last saw someone and you suddenly realize you’re looking for their presence. Most translations say it’s “I miss you.” It doesn’t mean you miss that person entirely, though. It isn’t happy or sad, it’s neutral. It’s just that moment you give in to the fact that they’re not with you anymore. Simple.

I don’t get what’s happening—I feel like a blur. I’m no longer part of anything, more so really, I no longer want to be part of anything. I think I’m losing myself, or at least the sense of myself. It’s like I’ve lost purpose.

What do your emotions compensate for in the absence of anger? Is it pain? Is it really? Or is it just that—an absence? Isn’t that all the more frightening than pain—losing the ability to feel?

It is so surreal—didn’t realize it felt this enlivening to die on the inside. I didn’t realize I could die and yet still stand to breathe—to pretend to live.

What is it about—this whole thing? What is it about?

I know I remember saying that the human race was put here only to fit the purpose of existing. I remember telling myself I could deal with that—but I don’t want to just exist. I want to live.

And it is so depressing realizing that all I will ever come to have to call a legacy was the fact that I existed. That isn’t much. Oblivion, my friend.

What is the point? I give up being the happy person. I’ll be what my baser self tells me to be. I’m done being on the emotional and moral high ground. I’m done being a better person for other people. I want to be left alone to be what we were all supposed to be—mediocre.

My blade runs through the length of a shark’s left side, the tip very slightly grazing at the sandpaper-like skin, blood runs down the white of the shark’s skin from a cut blood vessel. It’s dark outside and the bright fluorescent lights are hurting my eyes, the smell of blood and sea is in the air, the sound of metal against metal is heard as my scalpel touches the operating surface—I’m tired.

I chose my degree because I always wanted to be a doctor—how cool they looked in the white coats and with the ever-present stethoscope. Everything was planned out, all of it, in my head. So why do I sometimes catch myself questioning this degree?

I’ve told someone once of how sometimes your ears will hurt from silence—how your senses will reel from the sudden absence of stimuli. Like how you sometimes hear a ringing in your ears even when there’s no sound at all. It’s kind of like that, this feeling. It’s like there’s a really high-pitched ringing in the back of my head. I don’t know why. I’m looking for what’s missing but I can’t seem to find it.

Today, I got a sticky note from my old math teacher telling me that I’m still stuck living my high school life and that I should move forward and let go if I wanted to get better. I was smiling when I read it because he was standing there, but it hurt because it was too true.

I didn’t really want to leave high school, or at least the memory of it. You could get away with a lot more shit in high school—excuses were fine and being bad at something didn’t mean the end of the universe. But in college, where your success in life is dependent on how good a record you have, everything just feels so on the edge. And sir, if you ever get to read this, I want you to know that even if it doesn’t seem like it, my whispered apologies are sincere, and I appreciate it when you make an effort to do the favors I ask of you even when I’ve never really mouthed out the words, “Thank You.”